


Two Ships in the Night

by captainbrans0n (orphan_account)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BAMF Darcy Lewis, BROTP: Everett Ross & Shuri, Darcyland (Marvel), F/M, In which I take a crackship no one wanted or asked for seriously, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/captainbrans0n
Summary: When time sped back up, and his eardrums stopped ringing, Everett was cognizant of one thing: the blood adorning his shirt wasn't his, but should have been.





	1. Soulmarks...or whatever.

_No, please! please, don’t._ Darcy drags her index finger over the slightly raised words on her ribcage for what is likely the umpteen-trillionth time since they first appeared.

The science of soulmates and fate is a recently new field of study. Sort of. It’s all quantum entanglement meets mathematical philosophy meets carnival fortune telling and astrology vs. free will and individualism. It’s all very interesting and very complicated.

Soulmarks haven’t been around through all of human history. People only started noticing words appearing on their skin with no invite or trip to a tattoo parlor around the turn of the 20th century. Some people link it to the Industrial Revolution, as a punishment or reward from some God or other for achieving the next step toward being a better or worse society. Darcy puts no stock in such capricious Gods, aside from the ones she has met of the Asgardian variety. Other theories exist too–subconscious clairvoyance, alternate dimensions, Mandela Effect, etc. Darcy tried getting into it as a minor before the whole Space Robot Death Machine Incident in Puente Antiguo 8-or-so years ago. But priorities change. Space Robot Death Machine Incidents will do that. Plus the degree required advanced physics. _Yikes. No thank you._

Flexing her fingers, she screws her eyes shut and presses her fist into her right eye until she sees stars.

“So rapey,” she breaths out, sharp embarrassment roiling through her. This happens about twice a month. Darcy will catch her words while getting ready for the day and she’ll get sucked into a tailspin of guilt that is not yet hers. No one knows the context of their words, something Darcy’s mom reminds her of as often as they speak. But the idea that Darcy would be in a situation that would force someone to say what’s etched into her skin makes her stomach turn. Wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole, Darcy averts her eyes from her soulmark and finishes dressing.

Today was not a good day to get trapped in the what-ifs of her soulmark. Too early for too much under-caffeinated overthinking.

She had to be on point. Today she would be heading into headquarters for a debriefing. With former General, now Secretary of State “Thunderbolt” Ross. About Asgard. He probably has a lot of questions for her about what exactly happened out there and he’s going to expect thorough answers.

Darcy’s primary field of study ended up being poli-sci. Her second degree was in computer science. Much to Darcy’s own surprise, this and the combination of not being able to un-see a Norse God falling from the sky, made her quite valuable to the intelligence community. After she officially graduated, offers from the FBI, CIA and NSA came pouring in.

She’d even been approached by SHIELD before the events prompting the Sokovia Accords and the Great Hero Schism. Evidently, sometime between the afore mentioned Space Robot Death Machine and the New York invasion, Agent Phil "Jackboot" Coulson had written down her name as a person of potential interest for SHIELD recruitment. Turns out, someone they had surveilling them in Puente Antiguo had cracked into her iPod and found out it was much more than a music player.

Darcy had still been mulling over their offer when the news came that not only SHIELD but seemingly every level of American government had a bad case of HYDRA-herpes. Darcy decided to stick close to Jane for a few more years and stay outta the public sector until they got their shit sorted out. A decision with which Jane was more than happy. Jane and Darcy were sisters. Not by blood, but by everything else that counted. You don't stop a Space Elf invasion together without forging intense bonds along the way. So, Darcy was content programming and performing database wizardry for Jane’s continued research. It was this experience and Jane’s glowing recommendation that got her into the Directorate of Science and Technology division with the CIA, pending a total HYDRA cleanse of the organization first, of course. But it was her own work with Jane and previous experiences with Asgardian royalty what got her assigned to her position as political liaison with Asgard, before it all went tits-up out there, obvi.

 _Poor Thor_ , Darcy thinks, grabbing her badge, phone and credentials. _Hope the big guy is doing alright._ She hadn’t heard from Thor since being sent quickly back to Earth by the Warriors Three after shit hit the fan. _Hope they are all doing alright…_

Now, she's got a meeting with the intense General with the scary nickname and likely many other well-dressed higher ups, to clarify the situation in Asgard. Of which, Darcy has no idea how to begin.

"I wasn't even there for the whole thing," Darcy laments to the only other living creature in her residence, the ironically named Mr. Snuggles. Darcy's grumpy-ass alley cat stray who refuses to be anything other than silent. Darcy rescued him from the local animal shelter. He was an older feral cat, who had lived a rough life. He was deemed unadoptable by the shelter and was scheduled to be put down. Darcy was 100000% not going to let that happen. It took a full year for him to adjust to Darcy's care and he's still wildly unfriendly to anyone she brings over, but seems resigned, if not happy, to have a home and be taken care of.

"How are they going to expect me to give them any kind of details?" Mr. Snuggles blinks balefully in silent disdain. Responding in the way that only "catpeople" will understand, Darcy plants a quick kiss on his forehead and says, "You're so _cute_ , goddamnit, Mr. Snuggles!"

Depending on how today's debrief goes, she will be getting her next assignment. Her line of work was quite specialized, but she still had no idea where her skillz™ would be needed or useful next.

With one last glance at the mirror, Darcy gives Mr. Snuggles a double finger hand gun farewell, grabs her keys and hops out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made Darcy a catperson. Yes this is a fandom cliche, how much do I care? Answer: I don't. 
> 
> Also, there have been some small tweaks I made to the text between first publishing it and now. So if you read it 30 minutes ago, and reread it just now and notice changes, that is why. I will endeavor to avoid this kind of post-posting editing for future chapters.
> 
> Chapter 2: Wha-kanda? due this time next week.


	2. Wha...kanda?

“What? Wha…Wakanda?” Darcy is reeling. “Did you say Wakanda?” Repeating the question like a fool, Darcy fights the urge to look for hidden cameras and ask if she’s being punk’d. She knows that reference would likely go right over the Secretary of State’s head and probably just aggravate him. But the sequence of events of this meeting were still throwing her for a loop.

Darcy arrived to the meeting to find a surprisingly vacant debriefing room. The only occupants being two coffees _suspicion_ _activated_ , a stack of folders _suspicion levels rising_ and Secretary Thunderbolt alone, by himself, sans any MIB entourage, waiting for her. _Red alert_. The conversation was Asgard-lite, perfunctory more than anything else, before making a sharp detour to the current topic and next assignment-apparent; Wakanda.

“Yes. I did Agent Lewis.”

 _Well, slap my ass and call me Sally_. This is definitely not how Darcy thought today’s meeting would go.

Darcy Lewis, like every other human with eyes, has been voraciously consuming any and all news coming out about Wakanda since the Press Conference held by King T'Challa at the U.N.

Speculation of what Wakanda really is and of what they are potentially capable has taken over the news cycle on nearly every channel.

Do they pose a threat to world security?

Are they open to creating diplomatic relations? If so, with which countries will they open trade relations with?

How much vibranium do they actually have access to?

Just how advanced are they technologically?

What will it mean for minorities around the world?

What will this mean for majority white people?

Is Wakanda’s desire to stay secret and isolated partially or fully at fault for the transatlantic slave trade?

These last few questions, of course, running almost exclusively on shit programs like Fox and Friends and promoted by asshats like Tucker Carlson, drive Darcy up a wall. Any excuse that conservative pundits can grab onto to foist their white guilt off on someone else they are sinking their claws into with vigor.

“It seems, Agent Lewis, that ever since Tony Stark’s public declaration that he was Iron Man, the U.S. intelligence apparatus has been unable to keep up with the exponentially growing insanity that is our world.”

“Not to mention your HYDRA problem,” Darcy unthinkingly interrupts, she quickly adds, “sir.”

Secretary Ross continues, “As I am sure you know, the American people and their government have many questions about Wakanda’s diplomatic intentions. Questions that relate to national and global security, and none of which are getting very many answers.” Here, Secretary Ross slides a folder across the table to Darcy. Curious, she flips through it as the Secretary continues.

“The only vibranium we have ever had access to belonged to Stark Industries. As you know, Howard Stark used it to create a symbol and weapon for the now fugitive, Steve Rogers, for use during World War II. That shield technically belonged to Stark Industries while in the disgraced Captain’s possession, and has subsequently been physically reassumed by them in his departure.” Ross’s lips pinch together at that last part, frustration that the shield is not in his own meaty paws written clearly on his face.

 _Uh-oh._ Darcy does not like where this meeting is going.

“Inside your folder you’ll find what little information we have about Wakanda’s resources, culture and connections. This folder, Agent, needs expanding.”

_Whump, there it is…_

“Sir, with all due respect, it sounds like you’re asking me to engage in political espionage on behalf of the–”

“On behalf of your country, Agent Lewis, we are appointing you to a semi-clandestine operation to help gather information that will give your country the ability to defend herself from outside threats and engage in informed diplomatic discourse. It’s really quite simple.”

Darcy fairly bristles at the patronizing tone.

“We’re asking you to do what you did for us on Asgard, Agent Lewis.”

Darcy-of-8-or-so-years ago would have thrown her hands in the air and probably stormed out with a, "Helllllnah," at this point, but she’s not stupid. She furrows her brows at this.

“Mr. Secretary,” she addresses him, adopting a sweet tone, “my time spent on Asgard was done so in a diplomatic capacity. I acted as an ambassador more than anything. Information I gathered was done with the blessing and full support of Asgardian leadership. I–I was just there studying their information and medical technologies with their consent. This,” Darcy gestures to the open folder showing a few images of King T'Challa and who must also be his sister, Princess Shuri talking with a shorter white man with salt and pepper hair in some pressed slacks. “This is something I am super under qualified for, and if I’m being frank here, real sketchy.”

She’s slipping, letting herself slide into her natural sass she’s trained to lockdown. For Darcy, the most exciting thing about the world’s turn of events has been the news of how advanced Wakandan tech really is. The idea that a whole nation not only has these amazing weapons and armor made from the famously indestructible alloy, but technology as well…well, let’s just say, “Who do I have to blow to see that?” is a phrase that has passed through Darcy’s lips on more than one ladies’ night with Jane Foster. Looks like she’s getting her answer and Darcy hates that the chance has to come at the cost being asked here.

“Sir, I am very not okay with this assignment.”

“That’s what your superior said you would say,” Secretary Ross slides a second folder across the desk. It stops, resting right in front of her. It’s a fairly nondescript folder, as far as folders go. Maybe a little on the thick side, manilla in color. There isn’t anything overtly special about it, except Darcy knows exactly what it contains. _Balls…_

Pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, she asks, “When do I begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: "Kismet? No such thing." Due this time next week.


	3. Kismet? No such thing.

“Colonizer!” Everett whips his head toward the sound. _Shuri. Of course. Who else would it be?_

“I have a name, you know…” comes his wry and somewhat automatic response to the Princess’ favorite moniker.

“I know, Everett,” Shuri responds with a grin, “I just like ruffling your fur.” There’s not much the Princess of Wakanda won’t joke about, Everett was quick to pick up on this at their first meeting. Time spent with her at the Wakanda Science Outreach center has just cemented it.

“You left this in the lab,” she continues, “when are you going to bring Mrs. Ross around?” She tosses him the little golden band, which he deftly catches. _Huh… It must have fallen off at one point._ He didn’t even notice it was gone.

“There is no Mrs. Ross, Shuri,” Everett says sliding the gold band on his left ring finger.   
  
“What’s with the ring, then?”   
  
Everett sighs. It’s been a long time since he’s been asked to explain why he wears a ring.   
  
“It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it right now, if that’s alright,” Everett says, giving the Princess a smile that is more of a grimace than anything else. Thinking that would be the end of it, he goes to scoop up his files from the table. “I have new personnel files to look over and I’d love nothing more than to get this done with enough time to have at least one scotch before passing out on my couch. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says making a beeline for the front door. 

“Oh, nuh-uh. You’re not getting away that easy,” Shuri says, easily keeping pace with him. “I saved your life. You owe me.” With this, she steps in front of him with a self-satisfied grin as they reach the door. 

Everett has heard one of two things his whole life; 1. That he has an aloof and cold personality upon first impression, and 2. If you stick around him long enough, below that exterior is a softy that is extremely susceptible to coercion by a fairly simple tactic: dogged persistence. It didn’t take too long for Shuri to catch onto this weakness and begin to thoroughly exploit it for her own amusement and benefit.   
  
“Okay, how about we make a deal?” Everett says.   
  
“Lay it on me, white boy.” Shuri crosses her arms, still blocking his means of escape.   
  
“I’ll tell you about the ring first thing tomorrow morning, before the new blood arrives. Let’s say…7 a.m. in your lab.”  
  
“Deal.” Shuri immediately agrees, giving him a big smile and skips away. 

Everett turns around quickly before she can fully escape out of sight and practically yells, “Stick close to Agent Thomas, please!” She flashes him a double thumbs up before turning the corner presumably,  _hopefully, dear god,_  back to her lab. 

Working alongside Shuri and a handful of other Wakandan scientists at the outreach facility, Everett’s main task has been support and security, and it has been a madhouse. He had been informed in very clear and deliberate terms many times by T'Challa, Okoye, Nakia, the Queen Mother Ramonda and even W'Kabi that Shuri is precious cargo, the consequences of her falling into danger would not only have major diplomatic repercussions, but also personal and physical ones for Everett himself, so trying to keep tabs on her at any point has been taxing on his nerves.

With one last deep, fortifying breath, Everett leaves the outreach facility and steps out into Oakland's evening breeze. 

Late that night finds Everett on his couch, files on the coffee table in front of him, scotch in hand despite not finishing checking the new personnel for proper vetting before pouring the amber liquid. Justifying the early hit, Everett reminds himself it has been a long day.

On top of seeing an increase in the number of local kids attending classes and after school programs, Wakanda Science Outreach has also been laying out feelers around the nation’s science schools for internship opportunities and summer teaching positions. He spent the better part of his day scheduling interviews and background checks for a group of seniors from the Midtown School of Science and Technology.

 _Just what Outreach needs, more teenagers,_  Everett thinks to himself, rubbing his face down with his free hand with a sigh. Feeling the cold press of his wedding ring on his cheek, he breaths in deeply and throws back the last of the scotch before setting the empty glass down none too gently on the coffee table in front of him.

 _These personnel files won’t verify themselves_ , Everett thinks, reaching for the nearest one, only to stop dead, hand hovering over the top file. His eyes narrow, trying to understand what he is reading, he tilts his head and it clicks.  _Oh, no._

Below the top file is another one, displaying a name that leaves his hands shaking,  _Darcy Lewis._  Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, he hurriedly pushes the top folder aside to flip open the one bearing the name that matches the soulmark that fate decided to stamp his right forearm with,  _Darcy Lewis, please. Nobody calls me Agent except my mother._

His world narrows down to the 10 letters before him. The rushing in and out of his breath a wild tempo, and now the only sound he can hear past his racing pulse. He clears aside the rest of the files and all but throws his empty scotch glass to the floor so the only thing facing up at him is the open folder. He rapidly scans through everything Darcy Lewis’ file contains; HR information, briefing files, missions/assignments, psyche evaluations, background checks, training summaries, references, previous employment, personal details—all stuff one would expect to find in a personnel file. His gaze is drawn to the lone photo of his apparent soulmate. She is a beautiful woman, but what strikes him immediately is her eyes. Even in the overexposed, flat-lighting of the standard employee photo, her eyes are like oceans—a deep, dark blue not unlike his own.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
Everett quickly moves to his feet and digs through his pockets frantically for his phone. Punching in the digits displayed on Agent Lewis’ file that belong to her superior, Everett searches his brain for a plan here, any plan to ensure distance between him and...and Darcy.  _Darcy. Darcy Lewis, please. Nobody calls me Agent except my mother._  
  
One phone call becomes five becomes three transfers and, six hours later, Everett is still on his couch, yesterday’s clothes still on, wrinkled and a bit musty, the contents of Darcy Lewis’ file spread out on his coffee table, cellphone in between his white-knuckled hands. Closing his eyes tight, he breaths out through his nose and forces his knee to stop bouncing. Tossing his phone onto the cushion next to him, Everett lays his head back with a groan. He got nowhere. All night and there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable.   
  
_Shit just happens to me, I swear,_ Everett thinks remembering his conversations with the various heads of departments and directorates.   
  
_“It says here she’s on a new assignment, not many other details aside from that, sorry, can’t help ya.”_  
  
_“We can’t transfer her elsewhere, looks like she’s already out in the field.”_  
  
_“We don’t have much info on who her direct report will be, I’m seeing your name here, but she’ll also be reporting to the Directorate of Intelligence and the Directorate of Support--oh wait, that’s you, my mistake.”_  
  
A sound escapes him that could be called a chuckle, if it wasn’t colored with both panic and resignation. He looks at his watch, 6:55 a.m.  _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._  He completely lost track of time, and was now going to be late for his arrangement with Shuri.   
  
Running through his apartment desperately trying to make himself presentable for the day, Everett shoots Shuri a text:  
  
**I am running late.**  
**An emergency happened.**  
**I amm on my way.**  
  
As he is changing his shirt, his phone vibrates and displays a response:   
  
**Forgiven, if only because it was clearly an unintended haiku (sick btw).**  
**Also the typo endears you to me despite my extreme disappointment.**

A few seconds later a second text follows:   
  
**Bring a cinnamon bun.**  
  
Everett’s mouth ticks up on one side, smiling despite his stressful, sleepless night. He would never say it aloud, but being tasked with overseeing Shuri’s safety has been as much a blessing to his life as it has been a new source of anxiety. Everett always wanted to be a father, but fate had intervening plans. He imagines sometimes this is what it must be like to have a teenager.  
  
Checking his pockets for everything he’ll need for the day, Everett rights the scotch glass he so unceremoniously shoved to the floor in last night's haste and begins packing away Agent Lewis’ documents into her file. Stopping at her photo the morning light bounces off the golden band on the hand poised above her image. His breath catches briefly in his throat and he hears a voice in his head, a distant memory surfaces as he takes in her picture,  _“Kismet? No such thing.”_  And in that moment, Everett squares his shoulders and makes a resolution.   
  
_It can’t happen. Whoever this Darcy Lewis is, it won’t happen._  
  
With new resolve, he grabs the files and heads out the door, ready to face the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm publishing this chapter five days early because I need a little extra time for the following two chapters. 
> 
> Next chapter, "Not in my house." due March 15.


	4. Not in My House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's muffins on the ancestral plane.

Darcy's starting to feel the pressure build up just behind her right eye. The all too recognizable signs of a growing migraine that she has been denying for a few days now. Breathing out a sigh, she begins to shift past denial and straight into anger. Darcy's been dealing with these kinds of migraines her whole life. _Dizziness, check. Nausea, check. Blindspots in vision, creepin' there way in._  

Ever since her meeting with Secretary Ross three months ago, things have been decidedly not coming up Milhouse for one Darcy Lewis. Not only is she having to spy-- _motherfucking spy_ \--on this group of Wakandan scientists, she was also having to lie about it to everyone she knows. The next phase of her assignment she just received makes her stomach turn. 

Can't tell Jane t _oo risky,_   _her mom_ _no way, that makes_ _Laura right out, Thor et. Asgardian al. still MIA._ With a potent pang in her heart, Darcy wrestles with the knowledge that she is in fact all alone. It was a feeling she wasn't used to _not anymore_. Trapped out in Oakland, California for God knows how long, on a sketchy ass assignment and stressed out of her mind, Darcy takes one long drag of her last cigarette forcing the smoke deep into her lungs and stubs out the butt before tossing it into an eco-friendly receptacle. 

Pushing her sunglasses back up her face roughly she pockets the mini-scrambler masquerading as a lite phone. An invention of her own creation, Darcy's weekly encrypted data share back to the General and his cohorts is sent over a closed circuit connection at a coffee shop several blocks away from Wakanda Science Outreach. Today Darcy's "phone" made the data share look like someone's pirating every volume of "Now That's What I Call Music!" that has ever been created.

No one actually cares about digital piracy if it's something inane and in bulk. It's the perfect cover for the actual data stream. It's something ridiculous that elicits nothing more than a scoff, raised eyebrows, and a 'come check this shit out' from whoever stumbles onto the transfer. Darcy's been using this technique for years to hide important and/or illicit digital criminal activity. She's even used it a couple of times to help Jane out with her data collection and server house-keeping.

Darcy shudders in the warm summer evening, remembering the whole reason she was able to be coerced out here in the first place. _Criminal activity. blegh._ Grabbing up the coffee caddy and her order of boxed pastries to go, Darcy makes her way back to work. _Back to her dubious, duplicitous dissembling._

Darcy is many things, among them, hacker, solid gold secretkeeper and bluffer extraordinaire. She took to the art of misdirection like a fish to water, which she knows is not necessarily a good thing. But it was how she was taught to survive. 

Darcy's childhood was less than ideal. No abuse, no neglect, no chaotic parent, nothing overtly recognizable as having a rough go. In fact the only cliché box that her childhood really checks off is absent father. But, people don't realize how hard life is for a single parent. Even harder when you add two kids. Darcy and her sister Laura never felt like a burden. Their mother made sure of that. They just both had to grow up fast. Darcy's childhood was brief and hard in ways more fortunate children will never experience. When you're back is against a wall, whether figurative or literal, necessary choices are to be made over right ones.

Sparing a thought for Laura and her mom, Darcy is happy they have been able to eek out the existence they have. Laura with her house and family--beautiful little fat children bouncing around her. Her mom is living on the Caymans as a resident artist now. _Worth it._

Character traits she has long thought she lost or packed away, it irked her to some degree (many degrees actually) that she is having to now pull these old skeletons out of her closet and make them dance to Secretary Ross' tune. Don't worry, Darcy mos def sees the irony of finding herself working for the CIA. But to quote her mom, "You can't kill your demons, only make them submissive." Darcy sometimes feels that further into the belly of the beast was always going to be her fated path.

Steeling herself at the entrance to the labs, Darcy slaps a smile on her face and shows the reception/security personnel her credentials.   
  
"Agent Lewis, welcome back! You know smoking will kill you one day." With a warm smile, she's buzzed in by Menzi. The nicest, and tallest human being she has ever worked with, she discovered within the first two weeks here that Menzi had a soft spot for the blueberry, lavender muffins sold at the coffee shop designated as her data drop point. In an effort to ensure she would never run into him there while doing the Deed Most Villainous© _and because she's a nice fucking person, damnit_ Darcy has worked picking up several of them into her "smoke breaks" to bring back.   
  
"Keep eating these at the rate you do, and the same will be true for these muffins," Darcy says, sliding the box over to Menzi, watching his eyes brighten while popping it open to smell the freshly baked goods.   
  
"I will gladly die by them as long as a few come with me to the ancestral plane." The rapturous smile on his face has Darcy smiling back.  
  
"An afterlife without baked goods ain't no afterlife at all." Her response draws a laugh from Menzi that just serves as a reminder for Darcy of the bad she is actually doing here.  _I'm going to hell._ "Take care you don't inhale them whole. You're kinda too tall for most people to be able to give you the Heimlich maneuver."  
  
With a heavy heart, she heads toward the main lab. There's a class in there currently with Shuri and a few others. This week is a demonstration on the metallurgical properties and differences between steel and vibranium for a handful of the Midtown Science school kids. W _hy can't Ross just sign up like the rest of these kids? He wants to learn more about vibranium so much, he should just come to the summer camp._ Hand halfway to the glass door, Darcy stops short when Menzi's voice breaks through her salty thoughts, "The boss is in there."  
  
_What._  
  
Her confusion must've shown on her face, because he went on, a single muffin crumb escaping from his mouth. "Grumpy white man."  
  
Darcy knew of whom Menzi was speaking, but the direction of her thoughts had her worried Menzi might be a mind reader. _Too many Rosses_. Agent Everett Ross. Nodding her head, Darcy didn't understand why he would possibly be in the labs this late in the afternoon. She smiles, "Thanks for the heads up, Menzi."

She's previously observed that Everett and Shuri have a good rapport and a fairly close dynamic. He takes care of her and makes sure she's safe. She makes him laugh. The few chances she's had to observe them together reminds her of herself and Jane. 

Darcy moves into the back of the room, and takes a few steps to the right of the lab doors. _He would never be here this late, especially when there was a class going on._ She would know, the bulk of her time is spent in this lab with Princess Shuri and during her whole time here, aside from the first week or two, she has never been in a room with him longer than five seconds before he leaves. He's her direct supervisor, but he's never yet spoken a word to her. Feeling a bubble of frustration well up, Darcy pushes it down and into a box that she will deal with later. She wipes her knuckle sharply under the brow bone of her right eye, a futile attempt at staving off the migraine she can no longer deny, and looks up. Sure enough, Everett Ross was in here.

In the very back, several feet away from Darcy, he's standing slightly hunched with his arms folded. Doing his best to look nonchalant, Darcy guesses nobody ever properly taught Everett how to be nonchalant. Lips tight, shoulders squared and jaw ticking, Everett looks less like a curious observer and more like someone attempting very hard to keep from charging someplace. Try as he might, he read as tense as a racehorse in the slips.  
  
"That's just--that's--it's incredible. Really. Wow."  
  
Darcy sees Everett's stormy eyes narrow at the speaker. Following his gaze, she immediately sees what must be the source of Everett's simmering fury.   
  
"I--I've only ever seen this kind of behavior from nanotech. Stark's nanotech." The boy who is speaking can't seem to figure out what he should be looking at, the vibranium displayed in front of him, or the lecturer, Princess Shuri of Wakanda, who is currently giving this young man her million-watt smile.   
  
"Mr. Stark's recent nanotechnology breakthroughs are very extraordinary, and it is catching up to be equal to what we have access to in Wakanda--"  
  
"But, it'll always be different."   
  
"Correct." Shuri's accent trills her r's adorably. _She's so sweet._ A strong wave of affection mingling with a desire to protect her washes over Darcy, her right eye throbs once followed by the sharp taste of guilt. _This assignment is bullshit._

"Okay. And that concludes today. Please follow Dr. Thadie out and we will see you all tomorrow." Everett's blunt voice cuts through the boy's next question. Shuri's smile droops and is replaced with a resigned expression.

The group of about 5 kids all dressed in blue uniform jackets file out talking amongst themselves excitedly. A few are mumbling, wishing they had had more time today. The fresh-faced young man Shuri had been speaking to, cranes his head back like an owl, and gives a hesitant endearing wave to Shuri. _Ah, to be young._ Darcy thinks, moving towards Shuri who was currently shooting daggers at Everett. Everett follows behind the teenagers, ushering them out of the lab. With raised eyebrows, he spares a brief glance backwards. Darcy sees their silent exchange. He sighs and gives Shuri a slight possibly apologetic shrug (not likely) before Darcy feels his eyes dance quickly about her.

Something happens when he looks at her. His eyes widen by a fraction and there's a heightened awareness that feels dangerous. She feels pinned, like a taut thread charged with something that Darcy chalks up to her current paranoia. _These aren't the droids you are looking for. You don't want to sell me deathsticks, you want to go home and rethink your life_ run through her head without her permission. All she can do is let the perusal happen and hope he doesn't see through her act. His eyes never make contact with hers, they just take her in in pieces. Hair, shoulders, hands. Forehead, chin, feet. Never her eyes. Under his brief scrutiny Darcy's migraine flairs up. _Won't talk to me, won't be in the same room with me. Won't look at me._  She should feel fortunate that she's apparently over-look-able, but Darcy's current predicament has her constantly worried that he may be onto her.

Shuri mumbles something under her breath that must be in Xhosa, as Darcy doesn't understand it explicitly. However, the meaning is clear. Girl is annoyed as hell. As he leaves, Shuri throws a sarcastic salute his way. Darcy fumbles discreetly with a small object in her pocket. Preparing for what her next task is, she breaths in quickly and scoops up a set of files from Shuri's work station.

"Cock-blocked by the man?" 

"Darcy! It is so good to see you!" Shuri hugs Darcy tightly with a bright laugh.

"I brought you something." Pulling away from the hug, Darcy slides her hand past Shuri's wrist and makes sure to lightly pinch her first and second fingers along the underside of the Princess' sleeve. 

Swallowing past the lump of betrayal, Darcy pulls out the second coffee she ordered. With a flourish she sets it down in front of Shuri, "Caramel hazelnut white chocolate latte for Her Highness." 

A squeal of delight followed by a rapid succession of excited news spills out of Shuri's mouth. _All of you science wizards are the same._ _All you need is some caffeine and attention and you shine like stars._ Darcy loves manic pixie scientists. So full of energy. 

Feeling that guilt for what she's having to do here claw its way up her throat, Darcy brushes the feeling off with a wave of her hand. "So, tell me about the cuuuute boy in class today that has Boss man in a tizzy." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protective Everett rears his head. 
> 
> This chapter is fairly meandering and longer than other chapters. For this, I am sorry. I hope it was worth the wait. 
> 
> Life is starting to even out and I am excited to continue working on this.


	5. A cruel monster.

Everett K. Ross has picked up a bad habit: smoking.   
  
He's never smoked before. Not even once, but the past few weeks have become increasingly difficult to navigate. Agent Lewis has been here nearly four months now, and he's running out of reasons to keep away from her. Fate is a cruel monster and the universe seems hell-bent on forcing them into the same spaces. More frequently he's been having to change his plans, or move his schedule around to avoid her. Already prone to crankiness, he's noticed since  **she's**  stopped smoking,  **his**  moods have suffered.  **Her**  caffeine uptake makes  **him**  jittery, and when occupying the same space, he's starting to feel his own emotions becoming modified by hers. And his life-long companion, the migraines, have been coming more frequently. Emotional tethering is what this kind of connection is called. He's done his research. It all leads to the same inevitability. Needless to say, he's starting to feel a bit worn thin. _Like butter scraped over too much toast._ The only thing that's helped his compounded anxiety is the nicotine high cigarettes provide.

Rubbing his thumb over the inside of his forearm, under his jacket and shirt, right where he knows his soulmark is, he's starting to worry that Agent Lewis is catching onto their connection. If he's feeling the emotional tethering, she must be too. Everett figures he still has time though, Lewis has enough gumption that if she truly knew, really figured it out, she'd likely broach the subject, and she hasn't yet. So, he's dodging her. Prolonging the inevitable because he can. It's the coward's move, but he has no plans for how to cross this bridge.  _Fuck crossing it_ , he'll ford the river further upstream, even if its more dangerous. On top of this, he's trying to deal with the problem presented by one Peter Parker of Midtown School of Science and Technology. _Speaking of which..._

Hurriedly, Everett attempts to pinch out his half-smoked cigarette before Shuri can see why he really "went to take a phone call." She was exiting the facility with the very same group of Midtown students he was thinking about. Waving the air around his face, ineffectually dispersing the smoke, he tosses the remainder to the ground. Whipping out his phone he tries to at least make it look like he's been checking an email, texting or ending a phone call.   
  
"I'm 17, Everett, not stupid," comes Shuri's melodic voice. "I know you started smoking." Everett looks up at Shuri over the top of his sunglasses.  _Damn._ He knows he's been made. Shuri's eyes narrow slightly and her chin tilts up in contemplation. There's a slight but obviously present mischievous glint in her eyes. He knows what she's going to say, but that doesn't stop her next statement from making his heart stutter, like he's brushed up against an electric fence.  
  
"You and Darcy Lewis have strangely synchronous habits, Everett."   
  
Instead of addressing the teasing observation he shakes off the feeling with a sarcastic huff, breathes in and moves right past it, "Where exactly do you think you're going?" 

"M.J. suggested a Mexican seafood restaurant nearby. I was hoping to join them."  
  
"Shuri..."   
  
"It's only a few blocks away and Menzi and Darcy have agreed to accompany us." She says quickly, before Everett can get a dissenting word in. "I know I am not low-profile, but I am fully capable of protecting myself and others should anything happen."  
  
Shooting a sharp eye over her shoulder towards the group of teenagers, he's pleased to see that the young Peter Parker has the decency to shrink under his gaze, "That's not necessarily what I'm worried about Shuri."

Removing his sunglasses, he puts his hands on her elbows and gently steers her 180 degrees, so his back is to the group of teens currently showing each other a dance move he's been informed is called threading...or flossing...or something equally ridiculous.

Everett knows she can fight, but he has been tasked with ensuring there will be no incidents of. any. kind. "Your safety AND reputation are paramount. While you're here you're representing not just Wakanda, but also your brother and the crown."

"Yes, I know Everett." Shuri responds, placing her hands onto his elbows in return to gently push them off her arms. "You do not need to worry about any of that. Or if you cannot help yourself, you are more than welcome to come with us." She adds, beaming. "I have done you two favors now, Everett; kept your secret safe and saved your life. Are you really going to deny me a few fish tacos this evening?"

Pinching his lips together on a sigh, he looks back at the group of teens. Menzi is with them, pulling on his jacket, towering over the small figure of Darcy-- _Agent_  Lewis who is standing nearby, beaming up at him and speaking animatedly, gesturing to the students. Whatever she says causes Menzi to laugh, clapping his hands together before reaching over to squeeze Lewis' shoulder gently. A spike of jealousy roils through him at the exchange. The reality of his denial of their connection causes a complicated storm of emotions to sweep quickly and viciously over him. At the same time the feeling sweeps over him, he sees Darcy's brows draw together and she begins to glance their way. Before she can make eye contact, Everett breaths in swiftly through his nose and turns back to Shuri.

"Alright, but don't let me regret the approval." Shuri smiles wide and skips off to rejoin the youths. Returning his sunglasses to his eyes, he watches the group head toward their destination, followed closely by Menzi and Lewis.   
  
Picking up his phone, he watches them move further down the street and dials Agent Thomas' number. "I have a job for you tonight. I'm sending you the address now."

Feeling safe at this distance, he lets his eyes follow Lewis' form. He watches with curiosity as she falls behind the moving throng to stop and look up at the still visible slice of moon in the evening sky, next to which is a very bright point of light. She tilts her head and pulls out her phone, snapping a quick picture of the skyline. A distant sense of calm washes over him as he observes her actions and before he can look away, she looks back at him. It feels like all the air has been pulled from his lungs. This is exactly why he's never looked her in the eyes. Even through his sunglasses, the connection is real and palpable. He feels a frission of fear that doesn't quite feel like his own, but could be, hit him and he tears his eyes away from hers quite painfully. Grimacing, he pulls out another cigarette and lights it up, breathing the nicotine in deeply.

_Dumb move. Shouldn't have looked._

He senses her awareness move away as her name is called by Shuri along with a youthful challenge to keep up. Now alone, Everett lets his mind wander to their first meeting... 

* * *

 

Walking into the large conference room, having just dropped off the apology cinnamon roll to Shuri with a promise to speak later, Everett speaks. "Welcome to Wakanda Science Outreach. I'm head of support, security and training." He said, imbuing his voice with a certain level calm and authority. "Outside of the scientists, ambassadors and your direct supervisors, this makes me  **the**  authority around here."

From the corner of his eye, he can see her. Darcy Lewis.  _Agent_ , his mind snaps back furiously,  _Agent Lewis._ She's short. He's short.

"We're short--" he begins unthinkingly and hears a snicker. "Staffed."  _real smooth,_  "Have been. We have been short-staffed as of late. So, I'd personally like to thank you all for choosing to accept." Clearing his throat he continues, "Many of you are here in different capacities, but all of your bi-weekly reports will end up on my desk, so I'd like to clarify a few things..."

During his speech he addresses only the necessities as his assistant passes out security badges, job descriptions and itineraries, including training schedules and org. charts. 

"Welcome aboard."

The group begins to shuffle about, searching for their co-workers to begin training and getting to know who they will be working with. There's a small commotion outside the door, coming from the direction of the labs at this point.

Everett can begin hearing Shuri's voice, "...she worked with THE Dr. Foster." At this he sees Darcy's head snap up from where she was attaching her badge to her navy blazer. Quite out of his own control Everett finds he is moving toward where Shuri is striding with confidence, closer to Darcy Lewis. Them meeting was exactly the last thing he wanted. Darcy's reputation proceeds her and her personality assessment made it very clear that she was not only super smart but also very likeable. Knowing Shuri would eventually gravitate towards her, his primary goal was to keep them as far away from one another as possible, but his interception failed spectacularly.

"Pardon me," Shuri says, "are you the Darcy Lewis that worked with the astrophysicist that made first contact with the Asgardians?" The question is fired off quickly as Everett sees Shuri reach forward and grab Darcy's hand, shaking it with enthusiasm. "You were the ambassador to Asgard before you came here, is that correct? I would very very much like to speak with you about all the things." 

Everett sees Darcy, a little shocked at the forwardness of this new person, open her mouth to respond, but he cuts in before she can get a word out.

"Princess Shuri, Agent Lewis is--" then he hears it.  
  
" _Darcy. Darcy Lewis, please. Nobody calls me Agent except my mother."_  At this, time stood briefly still and his vision narrowed to the proffered hand of Darcy Lewis. The same sort of slowing of time that the rush of adrenaline gives while taking a nosedive in a Lockheed Martin. That's what this felt like. It was dangerous.

"Also, I was technically a liason, not an ambassador, but yeah, that's me."

Suddenly panic like he had never felt in his whole life seemed to take over his whole being. Her warm, slightly scratchy alto voice echoing in his head.  _Darcy. Darcy Lewis. Darcy. Darcy. Darcy..._

He can faintly hear Shuri laughing. Something about a movie?  _Aliens...good one...Newt...we're going to be friends._  He can't follow, as he doesn't have the capacity to understand anything outside of the spiral of loss of situational control.

Not knowing what to do, he takes Lewis' hand firmly in his own and feels a zip of lightning run through his body at the contact. But instead of saying anything, he turns to Shuri and powers through his original statement, "Agent Lewis' assignment will be in Lab 4--"  
  
"No way," Shuri interrupts. "I am going to have to request an adjustment so she'll be working with me in Lab 1. I'm sorry Darcy, but you will not be leaving my sight any time soon." 

Clearing his throat, Everett is acutely aware that most of the new employees have turned their attention to what is going on between the three of them. Trying his best to keep some semblance of control here, he speaks up. "That-that can be arranged later."

"Yes! I would like to have it done as soon as possible."

"Yes, yes of course. Please come see me in my office later, Shuri and we can-" a cough interrupts his statement and he looks back to where his hand is still holding Agent Lewis'. Horrified, he pulls it away, as quickly as can be considered normal so as not to startle or tip his hand, but it still feels like he has touched a fire. Issuing no apology, nor looking in Agent Lewis' direction, he quickly finishes, "we can talk about this this afternoon. Have Lewis give you her badge so we can have her access permissions changed."   
  
Leaving the conference room as quickly as possible without also looking like he was fleeing a disaster-zone was difficult, made even more so by the two sets of eyes he can feel following him the whole way out. 

* * *

  
  
In the present, Everett rubs the thumb of his right hand along his fingers. Remembering the feel of her hand in his, he stares at his phone. He has the address of the restaurant typed up, ready to send off to Agent Thomas to be their tail for the evening.

Hovering over the send button, Everett feels a new emotion overtake him. A gut feeling. One that reminds him of his time in service. An approaching dread. Releasing the smoke from his lungs, he hits send. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Aliens and LotR reference for fun and some solid bro'ing between Shuri and Everett.
> 
> Two chapters within 24 hours. I figured I owed it to you all for being MIA while focusing on my emotional wellbeing the past couple months. 
> 
> Hope you like it!


	6. A snag of sorts...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She keeps them secret. She keeps them safe.

Shuri likes Oakland. Quite a lot. Taking a sip of her drink and leaning back in her chair, she watches. Letting her sunglass covered eyes sweep over her new friends and acquaintances Shuri feels happy and possibly for once, her age. Instead of all her responsibilities and the associated pressures that come with her title, position and status for these minutes she's just Shuri. 

After a few moments however, something starts to feel off. There's something missing. She scowls, pissed that something has thrown off her groove. _Ah...and there it isn't._  Focusing on the source, Shuri sees that Darcy Lewis is not her usual self.

Her time working with Agent Darcy Lewis was anything but silent and Shuri **_lived_** for it. Darcy loved noise. Shuri noticed, for whatever reason Darcy's world was always a riot of sound. If Darcy wasn't telling a joke, she was listening to music. If she wasn't doing that, she could be heard humming a tune or engaged in conversation of nearly any kind. If she was silent, it was only because she was being attentive. Even then, she would _hm_ or _ah_  in all the right places, verbally encouraging the conversation. But that's nothing like what she was currently getting from Darcy right now.

Now, Darcy was tired? sad? distracted? It was hard for Shuri to read Darcy's current state, but whatever it was, it was abnormal. Darcy was currently slumped forward, nails lodged in her mouth and her eyes were unfocused and stormy. If they were in a lab, and if Darcy was a scientist, this expression wouldn't be unusual. She looked like she was working through a very difficult problem in her mind.  

Shuri feels a little thrill, hoping that the reason behind Darcy's recent silence may be because she is feeling the pull of the emotional tethering, _which_ , Shuri thinks, _she's got to be feeling by now_. She begrudgingly respected Everett's decision to keep his distance from Agent Lewis, and has even aided him in his shenanigans to avoid her. However, she also has a running bet with herself to see when/how/if either of them cave. Despite Everett's reasons for not wanting to be with Darcy, Shuri knows it won't last. It never does. 

Shuri remembers their conversation well. It took a few days to track him down, but she did eventually catch him in his office on a slow afternoon and got her answers...

* * *

"Shuri, excellent. Shut the door behind you, will you?" 

Everett was jittery. Smoothing his hair back, a common nervous tick of his, Everett moves to shutter the blinds to his office. Shuri, watches his movements with interest. He's a strange little dude, but decidedly calm under pressure. The man before her now is a far cry from the one that braved the attack on her lab back in Wakanda. This kind of strange was very out of character. 

"I'm not going to beat around the bush with you." Everett's voice is pitched a little lower, like he's nervous someone could overhear them. "You're going to find out anyway." His words are coming out in a rush, as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his black button-up. His movements are quick and jerky. "Darcy Lewis is--ahh...my, well--" he breaks off here to release a slightly manic chuckle before continuing, "she--she said my words." 

His right forearm is stretched out and there they are. The fine lines of his soulmark, written in a loopy script across his pale arm, tucked away near the crease of his elbow. The silence that came after the reveal lasted barely two seconds before Shuri let out a very loud and exuberant --

"YOOO!!"

Everett flinches away at the sound. "Oh, sorry, but this is wonderful, Everett!" Stepping in to look closer at his soulmark she continues at a rapid pace speaking over his half-hearted objections.

"Shuri--"

"Darcy is the. best. I really like her company--"

"That's not--"

"--She is a wiz with a hard drive."

"Please, Shuri--"

"--She is a delight and so smart. Ohhhhshit Everett, this is good news!"

"Shuri. _Please stop_."

His tone left no room for questioning. Shuri's excitement got the best of her. Blinded by her enthusiasm, she didn't even noticed how distressed her friend had become.  
  
"But, why are you not happy about this?" 

"It's complicated."

"How could it be complicated? It is fate. She is yours and you are hers." Shuri doesn't understand Everett's objections. He runs his left hand down his face and heaves a sigh as deep as his soul. Everett motions for her to sit down, so she does.

"I promised I would tell you about my ring. Now's as good a time as any." Shuri leans forward at this, placing her face in her hands on his desk and waves her fingers with a flourish, as if to invite him to entertain her. 

"I had a wife. We met a long time ago." Everett removes his ever present wedding band, keeping it at the tips of his fingers while he speaks, moving it from finger to finger as he does. "We were young and willful. Neither of us wanted our lives controlled by an unseen force. 'No such thing as Kismet,' we would say."  
  
"Colonizer, you? A rebel? Color me scandalized." 

Everett's mouth ticks up at this. Grateful once again for her levity. "Oh, ha ha--yes. yes, I was, if you can believe it." 

"I can, quite well actually." Shuri would bet that rebellious streak ran deeper than even Everett himself is aware. 

"Josi. She was in the Air Force with me. Another recruit. We got to know one another, both of us had abnormally specific soulmarks." Everett looks up at Shuri, continuing. This next part comes out colored with a shade of bitterness. "Her's said, _Josi Mills sounds more like an advertisement than a name._ "

At this Shuri gives a small laugh. "Well, they weren't wrong. Rude, but not wrong." 

"Do you have a mark, Shuri?" This question came out tentative. It's a very personal question. Not everyone has marks, and some range from embarrassing or lewd to heart-breaking and terrifying. Most however, are innocuous, but one could never know.    
  
"Yes I do."  
  
"And do you know...?" Everett's hands make a prompting motion, not wanting to complete the question himself in case he was overstepping. His ever present respect for her boundaries is adorable.

"Who my soulmate is? No...well, maybe." Shuri looks down at her wrist and sees her mark looking back up at her. Two-words long. Ones she has heard countless times _You're Highness_ in her native language.

"Several people have said my words and I have said theirs in return. There was one Jabari boy who spoke my words and I spoke his back, but we were very young. My friend, considering what my rank is, you must understand, in my position, I may never know who my soulmate is." Her expression becoming contemplative as she speaks. "Like my brother and Nakia, I would have to wait to see if any tethering occurs. And, as the Jabari are secluded, and relations with them have always been tense, if he is my soulmate, I may never know."   
  
Looking up she catches Everett's expression. Caught somewhere between sympathy and something else, he speaks, "I know this may not be what you want to hear, Shuri, but I would kill to have that kind of freedom."

Shuri is someone who values her freedom. Her will. Her right to choose how to live. Everett's desire for the same is something she understands very well. _But fate was fate._

"What happened between you and your wife, Everett?" 

Breathing another sigh, he sets his wedding band on the desk and looks at it for a moment before answering. "The short and obvious version is that she met her soulmate. The pull was too strong. She left." more bitterness seeping in as he speaks.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was 10 years ago, Shuri."

Shuri scoots forward and picks up the gold wedding band, allowing herself to feel the weight in her hands and asks, "Why do you keep wearing the ring, if it was so long ago?" 

"I loved her." 

A simple and complicated answer.

"Do you still?"

At this question, Everett tenses, "I loved her, and she left." His bitterness is slowly becoming anger. "We promised each other that we would be control our destinies and she _left_ , Shuri." A small fire builds behind his eyes now and he all but spits out the next part. "The--the emotional tethering was too strong and it tore us apart and I swore to myself I would never _ever_ let myself be that weak."

"Fate's bitch."

Shooti g her a reproachful look, he responds, "Crude, Shuri, but accurate. It's my reminder. It's why I wear the ring." Shuri watches as he plucks his ring from her grasp and slides it back onto his finger, resolution etched into his face. "Sometimes I forget." A few heavy beats pass between them. Angst and sorrow rolling off Everett in waves. 

"Well, Colonizer, you delivered on your promise, but this conversation got hea-vy." Standing from her chair she reaches over, breathes in deeply, and, with confidence throws her hand onto the shoulder of her friend and says, "I shall keep your secret. With me, it will be safe."

Relieved, Everett pulls Shuri into a hug, "Thank you, my friend. Thank you." 

* * *

 So, Shuri helped him. Brought all of Darcy's reports to his office, helped Darcy be in the right place at the right time to buy her friend some time before he had to face the facts, like Nakia did. Nakia who fought tooth and nail to be in control of her fate and her life, but eventually had to realize her fate would always be tied to T'Challa's. So, she had a running bet with herself to see how long it would take Darcy to pick up on the developing connection or for Everett to cave and admit the truth. His little game of hot potato he played to avoid Darcy was entertaining, sure but not sustainable.

_Now, what to do about Darcy..._

But at that moment she notices something catch Darcy's attention near a spot several tables down from them. Darcy's eyes narrow at a point Shuri can't quite see, but hears her saying, "Something's not right...this isn't right."

Shuri perks up at this quick display of panic. She whips her sunglasses off and looks directly at Darcy, whose eyes are suddenly wide and wild before locking them onto Shuri's. What Shuri sees staring back at her sends a thrill of fear down her back. There's a silent exchange between the two of them, and shocked, Shuri can see tears in Darcy's eyes as a myriad of emotions pass over her face. Then, Darcy's expression turns to stony resolution. 

"Shuri. I need you to come with me, right. now." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! I hope you find it worth the wait.


End file.
